


Rewarding Loyalty

by Sabulana



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Freak Family - Freeform, M/M, gotham buddy exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 11:52:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12581304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sabulana/pseuds/Sabulana
Summary: My gift forprince-oswaldover on tumblr!It's hard enough being the King of Gotham without people plotting against Oswald, but thankfully he's not alone. He's got some very special, very loyal friends to help him.





	Rewarding Loyalty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [prince-oswald](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=prince-oswald).



> My first Zsaszlepot! With some Oswald & Ivy and the rest of the freak fam thrown in too.
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this! I've been so excited for this event and so nervous too. 
> 
> Many thanks to [thekeyholder](http://archiveofourown.org/users/thekeyholder) for betaing this for me.

Oswald doodled idly on the corner of the page, the logo for his new club. A cup of tea that Ivy had made cooled by his side. It was something to help him sleep, she said. She worried about him, something he was still getting used to. She was sweet, if a little odd, but she had grown on Oswald until he was certain he would kill for her. Even if she sometimes didn’t know when to leave him alone.

Right now, though, she was quiet, tending the houseplants she’d left in the window. The mansion was full of them now, the smell of flowers and damp soil mingling with the smell of aged wood and polish that the staff used to clean.

Within sight of Oswald’s seat at the table was the ice block containing Edward. The sight of it only gave Oswald satisfaction now, victory over an adversary. Whatever they had been before, whatever Oswald had once felt — that was all over now. Oswald wouldn't forget any of it, wouldn't change anything for the lessons it had taught him.

Edward remained frozen only as a reminder not to be so weak ever again, and a warning to anyone else who sought to take him down. The betrayal barely even stung any more. Barely.

“Nice trophy.” Victor — Zsasz, not Fries — walked around the Edsicle slowly. “Ice. Should preserve him. What will you do when it melts?”

Oswald flicked his eyes to Victor, then back to his doodle. “I haven't decided. And I'm not going to let him melt yet anyway.”

Victor nodded slowly, approvingly. “Can he see you gloat?”

“I don't know. I don't care,” Oswald said. His gaze never left the paper.

Victor looked at him, then back to the Edsicle. “Then why is he here?”

“The Iceberg Lounge isn't complete yet. I'm moving him there once we're ready to open,” Oswald replied. “He’ll be on display for all to see.”

“And then he can watch you go about your life,” Victor said.

“They say living well is the best revenge, but living well while my enemies are frozen solid, a visible reminder to any others who would dare take me on, is better still.” Oswald smiled coldly.

Victor traced a gloved hand over the ice. “When you want him dead, if the ice doesn't kill him...”

“We'll see,” Oswald replied curtly. Perhaps he would want to do it himself, to watch the life fade from his eyes. But if circumstances prevented that, then Victor would certainly get the job done. Oswald hoped that either way, he would be there when it happened.

—

Overseeing the completion of the Iceberg Lounge took up more of Oswald’s time than he would have liked, but he was determined that everything about it would be absolutely perfect. His office, on the floor above the club itself, was already finished, but there were still changes to be made downstairs, and it was these he had been officially checking on when he was working late, though the workers themselves had all gone home long before.

Unofficially, he had been waiting in his new office above the club for the leader of one of the smaller gangs under his control to meet with him. Apparently the man had some concerns over Oswald’s plans for licensing crime in the city and wished to discuss it in private. It was annoying, but Oswald had agreed, only for him to not bother turning up.

Oswald kept himself busy while he waited, as there was actual work to do relating to the Iceberg Lounge, but as the hour grew late, Oswald ran out of patience. Ivy was already dozing in one of the booths while he worked. While she was excited to be part of his operations, it wasn’t enough to keep her awake long past midnight.

Oswald sent one of his men out to bring the car around to the front, and went to rouse Ivy.

“Ivy, it’s time to go,” Oswald said, trying to keep his voice gentle. He couldn’t quite keep the irritation out of his tone, though.

Ivy stirred, frowning. “Pengy?”

“Don’t call me that,” Oswald replied automatically, but without any real heat. She’d insist on using the ridiculous nickname anyway. “Quinn didn’t show, so we’re leaving.”

“Oh. Okay.” She yawned and stretched. “That’s rude of him.”

“Yes, and I shall be having sharp words for him next time I see him.” Oswald glared around, as if Quinn would appear from the shadows at the mention of his name. “Possibly a sharp blade as well, if he doesn’t have a very good reason.”

Ivy gave a tired smile at that, wobbling as she stood up. Slender stiletto heels weren’t the best thing to be wearing when she was so tired she couldn’t walk straight, but Oswald graciously held out his arm to steady her. They walked out to the car like that, where Oswald’s driver waited to take them home.

Due to the late hour, Oswald was not expecting guests when they finally arrived.

Most of his staff were dismissed for the night, having finished their duties, but one of the perimeter guards let him know that Victor Zsasz was waiting for him in the mansion when they pulled up to the gates.

Oswald was instantly suspicious — he hadn't been expecting him at all — and more than slightly irritated. It had been a long day, and a man that Oswald had been due to meet with hadn't bothered to show up. The sheer disrespect was infuriating, and there would be severe consequences very soon. But after Oswald had gone to bed.

Crawling between the sheets had been all he had been able to think about in the car home. Ivy had dozed off again too, leaning against his shoulder in the car with her eyes closed.

Oswald gave her a nudge as they pulled up in front of the mansion.

“We’re home,” he said, more gently than when he had woken her up earlier.

Ivy stirred, sitting up right. “Bed…”

“Yes, you go on up to bed,” Oswald said. “I've just been informed that Victor Zsasz is here, so I'll see what he wants first and then retire for the night myself.”

Ivy nodded, clambering out of the car. “Okay. Don't take too long. You need your sleep too.”

“I know.” Oswald followed her up the steps.

One of his men had the front door open before they even reached it, and stood obediently still while Ivy clung to him with one hand and pulled off her high heels with the other.

She gave a happy little sigh of relief. “That's better.”

Oswald strode past her to find Victor in the dining room, playing with his guns while he waited for Oswald. There was a purple box in the middle of the table, with a large, decorative pink bow on top.

“Hey, boss,” Victor greeted. He didn't even look tired, despite the fact that it was getting so late it was nearly early morning.

“Victor, I've had a very long day and would very much like to go to bed, so I suggest you make this quick,” Oswald said, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

“No problem, boss.” Victor grinned. “I brought you a present.”

Oswald eyed the gaudily decorated box. It glittered in the low lamplight. “So I see. What's the occasion?”

It wasn't his birthday, and Christmas was months away, not that he and Victor had ever been on gift-exchanging terms anyway.

“Well, it's sort of a funny story,” Victor said. “See, I got a call this morning from Lucas Quinn. He said he had a job for me, promised to pay very well, but we had to meet to talk price and target.”

Oswald scowled. Was this meeting with Victor the reason Quinn hadn’t bothered to show up tonight? And who was the target? Oswald was familiar with Quinn’s businesses, and wasn’t aware that he had enough money to hire Victor.

But Victor was still talking.

“So I pay him a visit and he offers me an easy hundred and fifty grand to take out… can you guess who?”

“I’m not in the mood for games,” Oswald snapped. “Get on with it.”

Victor didn't seem put off by his tone at all. If anything, his grin grew more feral.

“You.”

Oswald froze, his gaze snapping up to meet Victor’s. “What?”

“Lucas Quinn offered me a hundred and fifty grand to kill you,” he said slowly. “Said to do it in any way I liked.”

“Victor—” Oswald began, taking a step backward, mind working furiously to find a way out. The table was between them, which barely gave him any advantage at all. He couldn't outrun Victor even if his leg hadn't been damaged, but there had to be a way —

“I said no,” Victor said smoothly.

Oswald paused again. “What?”

This conversation was nothing like he had imagined it would be when he had heard Victor was waiting for him.

“So he doubled it,” Victor said. “And tripled it. And then he got very scared and told me to take all three checks he'd written out just to keep quiet about our conversation.”

Oswald frowned. “So why are you telling me this?”

Victor nudged the box closer to Oswald. “Open your present.”

Oswald cast one last suspicious glance at Victor. At least he could be sure it wouldn't explode or anything like that. That wasn't Victor’s style.

“Oh.” Oswald stared for a moment.

Victor came around the table to stand behind him. “Do you like it?”

Oswald looked down at Quinn’s severed head, the face frozen in an expression of fear.

“Yes, I think this will do nicely.” He smiled, pleased.

“Nothing but the best for my favourite little birdy,” Victor said.

Oswald spun around, not sure if he was being mocked or not. But Victor’s smile wasn’t mocking, or teasing.

“You're my favourite,” Victor said, stepping closer. He cupped Oswald’s jaw in one gloved hand, brushing his thumb over Oswald’s cheek. “I won't take any work that goes against you, or targets you.”

“Oh.” Oswald’s eyes widened. Victor’s behaviour was most unexpected, but if Oswald was honest with himself, not entirely unwelcome.

Then he brushed off the feelings Victor was stirring in him, unable to quit a lifetime habit of being suspicious and questioning everything.

“What if it comes from Falcone?” he asked. Because Victor had taken jobs from him before, had worked primarily for him before his retirement.

“Not even then,” Victor promised.

“I hardly know what to say,” Oswald replied.

“Then say goodnight,” Victor said. “Don't know about you, but I could do with some sleep.”

“I… yes. Goodnight, Victor,” Oswald replied.

Victor grinned, stepping back. “Goodnight, little birdy,” he said, sauntering out the door.

Oswald heard the front door open and shut behind Victor as he left the mansion.

He wasn't sure what to make of the whole encounter. He appreciated the show of loyalty. It was reassuring to know that the best, most notorious hitman in all of Gotham was firmly on his side. But there would be repercussions for Quinn’s death, and Oswald would have to deal with that.

And then there was Victor himself, calling him ‘Little Birdy’ and standing so close, looking so intensely at him.

What did it mean?

Oswald looked down at the severed head again, frowning. It was too late, and he was too tired. He'd figure it out in the morning.

He put the lid back on the box and went upstairs to bed.

—

There had been something about Oswald from the start that attracted Victor, that caught his attention and held it. Something in Oswald’s eyes when he stood beside Fish Mooney, knuckles white as he tightened his grip on the umbrella in response to the latest joke at his expense. Something that showed itself when he was allowed to join in beating whatever luckless punk got on Mooney’s bad side that day, emerging in such a show of viciousness that made other hardened criminals wary.

When Oswald clawed his way to the top, claiming the throne as King of Gotham, Victor wasn’t surprised at all. Oswald wasn't meant to stay at the bottom of the pile. He had ambition and intelligence.

Victor didn’t care much for ambitions other than his own, but intelligence he could respect. He had his own role to play in Gotham's underworld, and he did it excellently.

Oswald had style. Not just his clothing, but his manner, the mob traditions he kept to when others disdained them. There was flair. Victor could appreciate that.

In meetings, he’d watch Oswald kiss soon-to-be-former associates on the head, then step away. The others watched in confusion, but Victor understood. He took Oswald’s place and put a bullet through the former associate’s head.

Afterwards, when Victor marked the kills on his body, he’d let Oswald watch. Well, to be more accurate, he had let Oswald walk in once. He had been interested to see how Oswald would react.

The only sound had been a small inhale when Oswald saw Victor without his shirt on.

Blood welled up in the small incision, running down his arm.

“I heard others mention this,” Oswald had said at last, watching the blood.

“Did you now.” It wasn't really a question, just a flat response.

“You do this for every kill?” Oswald asked. “There are less marks than I thought.”

“You haven't see me without my trousers,” Victor replied, utterly straight-faced while he waited for Oswald’s reaction.

Oswald’s eyes jerked up to meet his, a blush spreading across his cheeks. “Oh. Uh.”

Victor smirked at him, wiping the blood off his arm. “I’d better go. My girls will be wondering where I am.”

Victor dressed again, buttoning his shirt, and left, throwing Oswald a wink as he exited the room, just to see what he would do.

Oswald’s blush deepened slightly, but he made no move.

Victor had thought it interesting at the time, but hadn’t done anything to further his interest in Oswald. There was always something else to be doing, and Oswald’s position at the time had been more precarious.

But that was then, and things had changed since then. Oswald had become established — more established, really — as someone to be wary of. He’d become King of Gotham and though there were always power struggles, that trip to Arkham, the stint as Mayor that had ended disastrously, Oswald always seemed to manage to come out on top. People knew not to mess with him now. Well, most people did.

There was always someone who thought they could take down the Penguin.

Victor had become fond of working for him over the years, though, and wasn’t about to let anyone ruin that. He’d taken the liberty of going through Quinn’s pockets when he’d killed him. He’d taken Quinn’s phone and his keys, to go poking around his apartment later. There hadn’t been anything else worth taking, before he’d taken his head off. A clean-up crew afterwards had taken care of the body, paid for with money from Quinn’s wallet. After all, it wasn’t like he’d need it any more.

-

“Morning, Pengy,” Ivy greeted.

She was unbelievably cheerful in the morning, no matter what time she had managed to get to sleep. After Oswald had had too little sleep, he usually thought it was irritating, but otherwise it was nice to have someone cheerful to have breakfast with.

“What's in the box?” she asked.

Olga had set the table and brought out the breakfast dishes around the box.

“A present from Victor,” Oswald replied. “Have a look.”

Ivy stood up eagerly and lifted the lid. “Hey, isn't this…?”

“The reason Quinn didn't make our appointment yesterday is because he was trying to hire Victor to assassinate me,” Oswald said. “Victor, however, has made it clear which side he is on.”

“So he brought this over last night? Aw, that's sweet,” Ivy said.

Oswald blushed, suddenly remembering the way Victor had stood so close to him, his hand on Oswald’s face. It was ridiculous that he should be so affected by it. It was barely anything, just a friendly gesture, not worth more than a passing thought.

“I suppose. As gestures of loyalty go, it is certainly appreciated,” Oswald agreed. “I’ll have to find room in the freezer, I think, at least until my next meeting with the other heads of the families.”

“I’ll ask Freeze,” Ivy said. She skipped away happily, nearly bumping into Bridgit in the doorway.

“Why is she so cheerful?” Bridgit asked, helping herself to coffee. “And what’s with the box?”

“A gift,” Oswald replied. “One that may need freezing, if it’s going to last until my next meeting with the families, so Ivy’s gone to ask Freeze if he’s got space to store it.”

Bridget peeked into the box. “Is it your birthday or something?”

“No, it’s just a display of loyalty,” Oswald said. “What do you think?”

“I think someone’s really fond of you to decapitate someone for you. Anyway, didn’t you do business with this guy?” Bridgit asked.

“Yes, but our business relationship was about to come to an abrupt end, one way or another,” Oswald replied. “He was plotting against me, it seems. Now I need to find out if he had accomplices, and who they are.”

“Anything I can help with?” Bridgit asked.

“I’ll let you know,” Oswald said. “For now, I need something more subtle than simply torching everything.”

Heavy footsteps accompanied by a mechanical hissing heralded Victor Fries’ arrival. He glanced dispassionately at the head in the box. Oswald wondered if he had always been so cold about everything before he became known as Freeze, or if the process that had altered him so profoundly had caused it.

“Ivy says you need to keep it frozen?” he said.

Oswald nodded. “Not for long, I don’t think, but if you’ve room to keep it preserved, just until I need it. Sadly, severed heads do not last nearly as long as I would like them to, and they do tend to smell bad after a while.”

“There’s space,” Freeze replied. “But I advise against starting a collection. I don’t have that much room.”

Oswald had granted permission, as well as funds and other resources, for Victor to take over part of the basement as a laboratory. Victor being the human icicle that he was, this also meant it doubled as a walk-in freezer where he also slept.

Oswald had been hesitant about allowing such changes to his father’s home, but Ivy had persuaded him. She’d wanted to keep their little family under one roof, where they would be together and safe. Oswald had eventually caved, though nothing else in the mansion was to be changed.

“With luck, I won’t need to, because he’ll have been working alone,” Oswald said. “Still, I doubt he would have gone to Zsasz without allies to encourage him.” Last night, he had been too tired to think properly, but he’d woken to the realisation that there would be more than one person unhappy with his current position of power.

He just needed to figure out who was working with Quinn and then how to deal with them. After breakfast, he called Victor to give him his instructions.

Oswald hadn’t risen to the top of Gotham’s underworld through luck. It had taken patience, planning, cunning and a willingness to do the dirty work himself if necessary. He hadn’t lost his touch since claiming the title of King of Gotham either, despite what some might have thought — though they wouldn’t be so stupid as to say it to his face.

Their actions, however, spoke volumes.

Quinn didn’t have what it took to go against Oswald alone. There had to be others with him, others who sat at the table when he held meetings in the mansion. They’d sat in front of him, playing at being loyal allies while plotting to bring him down the moment the doors closed between them.

But now Quinn was dead, and it wouldn’t be long before his absence was noted. Perhaps the others he was in cahoots with would suspect something had happened to him. If they knew he had contacted Victor, would they assume he had something to do with Quinn’s disappearance?

While he waited for Victor to complete his task and get back in touch, Oswald called one of the contact numbers he had for Quinn. Not his cell phone, but the number for the corner bar where he and his men conducted their business under the pretence of simple socialising.

One of Quinn’s men answered the phone.

“Is Quinn there?” Oswald asked without preamble. “Tell him that he needs to have a very good excuse for not showing up to our meeting last night.”

“Uh… I — I haven’t seen him,” the man stuttered. “He’s been missing all day.”

“Then find him, and make sure he knows,” Oswald snapped. “Make sure to tell him that if he doesn’t contact me today, then perhaps it’s time to replace him,” Oswald said.

“I — Yes, sir,” the man replied.

Oswald hung up.

“Why did you act like Quinn’s alive? Did you forget we have his head in the freezer?” Ivy asked, loitering in the doorway, slightly confused.

“Because if they know that I know he’s dead, then perhaps they’ll know why, and they’ll get scared and then maybe they’ll run,” Oswald explained impatiently. “And while it would be useful to have them give themselves away like that, it will lead to further trouble when I have to have them all tracked down. I need to know how many were working with him, and then I can deal with them.”

“And by deal with them, you mean kill them, right?” Ivy said, expression clearing into one of understanding.

“Eventually, yes,” Oswald replied, smiling indulgently.

Ivy was young, he reminded himself, and while she was very talented with her plants and making her perfumes, she was still learning. She needed patience, which Oswald knew he lacked in many situations. Unfortunately, he was also impulsive enough not to realise when he should have showed more patience until after he’d already upset her.

Ivy grinned. “Cool. Do you need my help?”

Oswald considered for a moment. He hadn’t yet finalised any plans, but it would be better for Ivy to be prepared to help him. “I may need you, and Freeze and Firefly too. Make sure you have enough perfume, and tell them to be ready.”

Ivy smiled excitedly again and skipped off to find the other members of their makeshift little family.

-

Victor watched Quinn’s apartment for a couple of hours, but saw no one come or go. From the building across the street, it seemed to be empty. So he decided to risk it. He didn’t want to get caught by any of Quinn’s men, but they were staying away from Quinn’s apartment today, probably gathered in the corner bar where Quinn usually conducted his business. Victor just hoped that Quinn had left any incriminating evidence of his betrayal in the apartment, rather than in the back room at the bar. While Victor wasn’t afraid to walk in, getting the evidence from there wouldn’t be easy, and Oswald had advised against doing anything that would force Quinn’s allies to go into hiding or destroy any evidence of their treachery. He wanted them out in the open, where he could confront them directly and deal with them there and then.

So Victor was sneaking into the empty apartment to rake through Quinn’s belongings like a common thief.

It was a bit out of his usual role, but Victor didn’t mind doing it for his favourite little birdy.

Victor didn’t bother hiding as he entered the building, or made his way upstairs. He was confident that he wouldn’t run into any of Quinn’s lackeys.

At least Quinn kept his apartment fairly tidy. It made going through his belongings that much easier. Victor picked through the pile of mail by the door, but there wasn’t anything interesting. Some bills mixed in with junk mail.

The bookcase wasn’t very interesting either, not that it had many books on it. Mostly there were photos of Quinn’s family, his friends, and a couple of faded pictures of a dog. Magazines littered the coffee table.

But Victor knew Quinn had to keep some things in his apartment. The kitchen revealed nothing relevant to Quinn’s work or his betrayal, but the sandwich Victor made was delicious.

The bedroom, however, was where the most interesting stuff was, though Victor hadn’t intended to stumble on Quinn’s stash of fetish magazines, or the harlequin romance novels hidden in his closet.

Victor flicked through one of the novels with a raised eyebrow. He hadn’t figured Quinn would be into these. He paused at a paragraph of lurid purple prose, describing the exact way the heroine’s gown fell across her bosom.

“Really, Quinn? Never would have thought these were to your taste,” Victor said to the empty air. “Guess that’s why you don’t want them on display in the rest of the apartment.” He paused, then corrected himself. “Well. Didn’t, anyway. I guess it doesn’t matter now, does it? Oh. Well now…” Victor was about to put the book back when he noticed something on the shelf behind where it belonged.

He pulled out some more books, revealing a small safe, with a key lock rather than a combination lock.

Victor pulled Quinn’s keyring out of his pocket again, examining the keys. There was a small one that should fit.

“Quinn, you’re making this way too easy,” Victor said, opening the safe.

There wasn’t much inside. A couple of diaries, and an accounts book that showed some creative accounting that any tax official would probably love to see.

But the diaries were what Oswald would be most interested in. Both were for the current year, but they had different appointments noted in them. The only ones that remained the same were dates and times for the meetings Oswald held. One diary held mundane things — haircuts, and dental appointments, legitimate business dealings and so on. Nothing suspicious, all above board. The other was for his criminal dealings, and was likely to be the one Oswald would be most interested in. Alongside the notes about meetings with drug dealers, planned shipments, payment due date for bribes — giving and receiving, it seemed — there were also appointments with people Victor had thought Quinn didn’t get along with.

While they all sat at Oswald’s table, not everyone got along. There were rivalries between districts, personal grudges and disagreements. Quinn was fairly easy-going, but he still had regular arguments with the likes of Romero and Huntsman over stuff Victor usually thought was stupid.

But why was Quinn meeting with them regularly?

There was an address, somewhere in the East End, along with a time, next to today’s date.

Victor checked his watch. They still had plenty of time to make it there.

He pulled out his phone and called Oswald. “Hey, Boss. Think I’ve found something you might be interested in. A meeting Quinn had scheduled later today.” He relayed the time and the address.

“Good work, Victor. Meet us there. Make sure you’re armed,” Oswald replied.

Victor pocketed the diaries, and the accounts book. There wasn’t anything else worth checking out in the apartment, so he left, locking up after himself. He left by the back way, lessening the risk of running into any of Quinn’s lackeys, and went to pick up his girls.

Though there was still plenty of time before the meeting was due to take place, Victor wanted to get there early enough to scope the place out.

-

The address turned out to be an abandoned office building in a really run-down area. More properties were boarded up and empty than were occupied. There were three entrances to the building where the meeting was due to take place — the main entrance at the front that was boarded up, a fire escape into the alley at the side, and a door leading in from an underground parking garage.

Victor set his girls to watch the main entrance and the fire escape from buildings across the road, while he settled in to watch the way into the parking garage from the room above an empty store across the road. There was a barrier across the entrance to the parking garage to stop other people using it, but he was willing to bet that the people Quinn was due to meet wouldn’t find it much of an obstacle, nor would they want their vehicles to be seen on the street.

Shortly before the meeting was due to begin, Oswald rang and Victor gave him directions to have his car parked in an alley further down the road, where it wouldn’t be spotted by anyone else, and which building he was in.

It was unusual for Victor to have company other than his girls while on a job like this, but he’d long admired Oswald’s penchant for violence and taking care of things on his own if need be. Besides, he wasn’t going to tell the boss how to do things.

“Has anyone arrived yet?” Oswald asked, finally finding him.

“Nope. No signs yet, but it’s early. There’s still fifteen minutes before they’re due to meet,” Victor said.

Ivy, Freeze and Firefly were with Oswald. Ivy tried to get a look outside over Victor’s shoulder.

“Get back before you’re seen!” hissed Oswald, pulling her back with a hand on her shoulder.

“I just want a look!” Ivy protested.

Freeze and Firefly kept out of the way, checking their weapons. They would be useful, at least, but Victor wasn’t sure how useful Ivy would be or why Oswald had brought her.

“We have one chance at this,” Oswald said. “Don’t mess this up!”

Ivy scowled. “I’m not going to screw it up!”

“Ivy, come here a moment,” Freeze called.

Ivy cast one last obstinate glare at Oswald and went to talk to Freeze, despite it being an obvious ploy to keep her out of the way.

“She’s not going to be a liability, is she?” Victor asked quietly, turning his attention back to the road outside.

“No,” Oswald replied.

Victor glanced at him, silently accepting it, though he didn’t quite believe it.

At least Oswald had the sense to keep more or less out of sight while standing beside Victor at the window. He kept to the side, hidden by the dusty curtains. If he stood a little closer to Victor than was strictly necessary, well, Victor wasn’t going to complain.

“There we go…” Victor murmured, watching a car come down the empty street and turn into the parking garage. He didn’t see what they did to raise the bar, but he could see it rise and the car vanished beyond it. He was more or less sure that it was Romero’s car, followed shortly by Huntsman’s, and then others came after.

Five cars in total, with a maximum of five passengers each meant there were potentially twenty five targets, Victor estimated. There may not be that many, but he would be prepared just in case there were. Between him, his girls, Freeze and Firefly, he thought they should be able to take them all out easily enough.

“Let’s go,” Oswald said, turning away. “I want them found, I want them interrogated, and then I want them dead.”

Victor radioed the girls, checking that no one else had entered the building by other means, then gave them instructions to make sure no one else left the building. If anyone did, they were to deal with them as necessary. He, Oswald and the others would go in by the underground parking garage.

The street was deserted when Victor led the group out of the empty store. He insisted on going first, more because he wanted to be sure he would have clear shots than out of any chivalrous or protective instincts. He didn’t really have that. Whatever the others thought, they didn’t challenge his decision. Ivy sulked towards the back of the group, but as long as she wasn’t getting in the way, Victor was content to let her stay.

There were two guards standing at the door leading inside. Victor took them both out quickly with a pistol, two shots each in the chest. They fell before they had the chance to raise the alarm.

Two marks to make, but no time for that yet. He would just have to keep a mental tally until it was all over.

All was quiet once they were inside the building. There was no sign of the group they knew must be somewhere.

The parking garage door led to a staircase and an elevator. With the building being apparently not in use, the elevator should have been shut off, but when Victor tried the call button, it lit up.

“I guess someone’s still paying the power bills for this place,” he said.

“So what does that mean?” Ivy asked, dropping the sulky act.

“They’ve been using this place fairly regularly,” Freeze replied. “And they might have noticed that the elevator is in use now, when it shouldn’t be.”

“Unless they think Quinn is joining them at last,” Oswald suggested. “Some of us should take the stairs, and the others go in the elevator.”

“But how do we know which floor they’re on?” Firefly asked.

“First floor above this is mostly just a reception area, a few archive rooms,” Victor replied. “I already checked out the layout. If they’re going to be anywhere, it’ll be the second floor on upwards.”

There were five floors total, which meant plenty of hiding places for the treacherous group.

“Freeze, take the elevator. Your suit will make too much noise on the stairs. Firefly, take the stairs with Zsasz ahead of me and Ivy,” Oswald said.

The elevator dinged as it arrived. Freeze held his freeze gun ready, in case someone was there, but the doors opened to reveal it was empty.

“Second floor, right? See you up there,” he said.

Victor and Ivy took point on the stairs.

“You sure you can keep up with me?” Victor asked, eyeing her flamethrowers and the fuel tank strapped to her back.

“Of course. Just don’t get in my way once the action starts,” Firefly replied, smirking.

To her credit, she was only a step behind him up the flight of stairs to the first floor. They quickly checked out the rooms to make sure that the floor was empty, but as it was mostly a large reception area, it didn’t take long. They rejoined Oswald and Ivy in the stairwell, giving the floor the all clear.

“Next floor,” Victor said, cheerfully.

Oswald and Ivy followed them at a slower pace. Though Oswald wasn’t incapable of defending himself, neither he nor Ivy were suited for fighting.

They met Freeze on the second floor by the elevator, in the corridor by the stairwell. They also had company in the form of two very surprised, frozen guards.

A third was quivering before Freeze, wide-eyed and pale. He was young, maybe not even out of his teens yet, but looking to make a name for himself if he was getting involved in mob business. He held a gun, but he was shaking so much that if he managed to fire it, he was just as likely to hit the wall as he was to hit Freeze, despite their close proximity.

“Please don’t kill me,” he begged, sinking to his knees. “Oh god, I never signed up for this!”

“Then what did you sign up for?” Oswald asked, pushing past Victor and Firefly. “Secret meetings in back rooms? Money? Power?”

“P-penguin!” he squeaked, dropping the gun in his terror. “Oh god, oh god, I didn’t mean-”

“Didn’t mean what?” Oswald looked down on him, a passive expression on his face.

“It was an accident. I heard Romero talking to someone — planning something against you, and they caught me and I didn’t want to die, so I lied and said I agreed with them and they believed me, but I never wanted - I just want to go home!” the boy babbled.

Oswald scowled at the mention of Romero’s name. He sat at Oswald’s table, had pledged loyalty to him, only to betray him now.

“What do you know?” he asked. “Where are they now?”

“Th-third floor. There’s a - a conference room. Uh, there’s a few guys to guard the corridors, alert them if anyone comes,” the boy replied quickly. “Um. Two guys downstairs, then three of us here… I don’t know how many in the corridors upstairs but they’ll be spread out to cover both conference room doors. I’ve only been up there once, then they told me to come down here, with- with-” He broke off, looking at the shattered remains of his companions, but then he pulled himself together. “But Romero, Charlie Huntsman, Gracie Brayton, maybe a couple others, they’ll be in the conference room.”

“How many are there in total?” Victor asked.

“I- I dunno. Maybe ten or so upstairs? I think they said they were waiting for someone else to come as well, dunno if he’s here yet,” the boy replied. “Are you- are you gonna kill me?”

“If the boss says so,” Victor replied. He looked to Oswald for instruction.

“What’s your name?” Oswald asked.

“Donovan, sir,” the boy replied.

“Donovan, I don’t think you’re cut out for this kind of life,” Oswald said.

Donovan nodded. “Mama would agree with you there, sir,” he said quietly. “…Will you make sure she knows what happened to me? Just… leave out the mob stuff. She’d be upset.”

Oswald’s expression softened, and he looked truly regretful. “I’ll make sure she knows.” He turned away, giving Victor a nod.

Victor nodded. He’d make it quick. There wasn’t any point in drawing this out any longer than necessary. It was a shame, if the boy was telling the truth about his situation, but he knew too much now, and they couldn’t just let him go.

He fired a single shot, and after the body slumped to the floor, checked Donovan’s pockets for ID. They’d need to track down his address somehow, if they were going to let his mother know his fate.

“Next floor then?” Firefly asked.

Oswald nodded. “We should hurry. Someone will have heard that. Victor, Firefly — take the stairs. Ivy and I will take the elevator with Freeze.”

Victor nodded, heading for the stairs with Firefly. Freeze hit the call button for the elevator. It hadn’t gone anywhere so the doors opened right away.

On the short ride up to the third floor, Ivy dabbed herself with her perfume. It was the only weapon she had, and it was often the only weapon she needed. Oswald was armed with a pistol and a switchblade, but he kept them hidden for now.

The elevator opened to a corridor in the middle of the third floor. It stretched out on either side, with doors leading to individual offices off it, and provided no cover whatsoever from the gunfight that had begun as soon as Victor emerged from the stairwell to spot Romero’s men. He fired at two of them down one end of the corridor. One fell, but the other ducked around the corner.

Firefly dashed past the elevator heading in the other direction and blasted another man with her flamethrower. He screamed as his clothes and hair caught on fire, spinning wildly as he tried and failed to put the flames out.

“I guess they know we’re coming now,” Freeze commented.

“Which way is the conference room?” Ivy asked sticking her head out of the elevator.

Shots came from the direction Victor had run off in, a couple of single shots from Victor’s pistols, and an answering burst of staccato fire from a semi-automatic.

“This way,” Oswald said, choosing to follow Victor. If someone was firing back at him, then perhaps he’d found the traitors.

By the time Oswald reached Victor, Freeze and Ivy a couple of paces behind him, Victor had put down three of the men waiting in the corridor outside the door marked ‘Conference Room’.

Victor turned and grinned at Oswald, holding a finger up in front of his lips.

Oswald watched curiously as he knocked on the door.

“Hey guys, you in there? Quinn sent me after our meeting yesterday. Sorry about your men out here. They were trying to shoot me. Self defence, you know?” Victor called out.

The door opened, and Victor immediately brought his gun up to the man’s face, so that he had no choice, but to stare directly down the barrel.

“Well. Sort of. I stole his diary after I killed him.” Victor smiled. “We were all very interested to see what it said.”

There were the telltale noises of guns being drawn, but Victor didn’t look around. He wasn’t worried. He stepped up closer to the man at the door, forcing him to step backwards. Oswald followed behind him, with Freeze and Ivy.

“Well now, isn’t this cosy?” Oswald said, shutting the door behind them.

The room was of a moderate size. A long table took up most of the space, with the traitors sat around it.

Anton Romero sat at the head of the table, the apparent ringleader. Victor recognised Charlie Huntsman too, from Oswald’s table, and some of their subordinates. There were a couple of Quinn’s men too, including his right hand man, Pearce. Victor recognised them from previous trips to the corner bar to deal with business with Quinn, and Gracie who had taken over a bunch of successful restaurants that Victor had liked. He hoped their new management would keep his favourite meals on the menu later. There were a couple of others as well whose names he hadn’t bothered learning, underlings that hadn’t yet earned any kind of recognition from him. By the end of the day, there would be no point in learning who they were anyway. Five people in total, who could all be easily dealt with.

“You know, one has to wonder what you’re all doing, meeting here like this,” Oswald said conversationally. “Except, I’m already aware that you’re plotting against me. Quinn revealed as much when he contacted Victor here.” He indicated which Victor he meant with his cane.

“Quinn was too hasty,” Romero said. “I assume you’ve killed him?”

“Yeah,” Victor replied. “I’d apologise, but I’m really not sorry.”

“But what I don’t understand is why,” Oswald said. “Have I not brought you a period of prosperity, the likes of which you’ve never seen before?”

“But for how long?” Romero asked. “You rise to power, then something happens and you lose it all, only to claw your way back up again. What this city needs is a stable leader, not some little freak like you.”

He drew his gun out, levelling it at Oswald. The fact that Oswald didn’t even flinch, didn’t show any outward reaction at all, only seemed to infuriate Romero further. Oswald could have laughed. After all he had seen and done, did Romero really think a gun was going to have him running and hiding?

Oswald glared at Romero. “You want to take my place? You’d never succeed. I made this city great. Business has never been better, and you should all be grateful to me!”

“Never. You think I’m going to kiss the ring of someone like you? I could barely stand to do it even before you started working with freaks like them!” Romero waved his gun at Freeze.

Freeze raised his gun.

“I think you’ll find my friends don’t take too kindly to being called freaks,” Oswald said.

Romero lifted his chin stubbornly, refusing to be cowed. “You said it yourself, these people are monsters,” he said. “So why the sudden change of heart?”

“I was campaigning for mayor,” Oswald said impatiently. “I said what was needed in order to secure votes. They’re no more monsters than anyone else in this city, even with their unique attributes.”

“You’re just as much of a freak as them, and I’m not going to let this city be run by a limping little psychopath like you,” Romero snarled.

He’d barely done more than twitch, the movement of his finger over the trigger just enough justification for Victor to fire first. A single neat head-shot, and Romero fell in a spray of blood.

That seemed to be the cue for everyone else to either fight or flee. Oswald dropped to the floor, avoiding the gunfire while he readied his own pistol.

Victor fired over his head, and shot Gracie while she fumbled with her own gun.

Huntsman tried to make a run for the door at the other end of the conference room while the others were more concerned with shooting Victor. Unfortunately, that put him in Firefly’s path. He flung open the door, and went up in flames, screaming. Another blast of her flamethrower deterred anyone else from trying to get out that way again.

Ivy had to jump back against the wall to avoid him running into her in his blind panic.

A couple of the other men in the room tried to run past Freeze, shooting in his direction, but their bullets pinged off his armour, and didn’t cause any lasting damage.

The first man froze while running, tilting forwards under his own momentum and shattering on the floor. The others tried to get out of the way, but were caught in the freezing blast of one of Freeze’s grenades.

Then Ivy screamed, high and clear.

“Everyone stops or I slit her pretty little throat!” shouted Pearce, holding a knife to her throat. He held her in front of him like a shield.

“Ivy!” Oswald stepped forward, fury warring with fear on his face. “Let her go!”

“I could shoot him if I get a clear shot,” Victor said, aiming at Pearce.

Pearce ducked further behind Ivy. It wasn’t easy, as he was bigger than her, but it was enough that Victor couldn't shoot him without putting Ivy at risk.

“No!” Oswald snapped. He turned his attention to Ivy, tone softening. “Ivy…”

Ivy nodded, then tilted her head to the side. “Hey, one thing, if you’re going to kill me… what do you think of my perfume?”

“Huh? Wha —?” Pearce looked confused for a moment, and then his face went blank.

“Let me go,” Ivy commanded.

Pearce did. Ivy shared a mischievous smirk with Oswald. “Now then, do we interrogate him or just kill him?” she asked Oswald.

Oswald smiled, pleased. He came to stand beside her. “Interrogation first. Let's make sure everyone involved was here today. Then Victor can execute him.”

Firefly and Freeze were set to guard duty, making sure no one else came to interrupt, whether they be gangsters looking for their bosses or the GCPD investigating the noise. Once Pearce was drained of all information and Oswald was satisfied that all the members of their treacherous group were accounted for, Oswald gave the signal and Victor stepped up to put a bullet through his head.

“I think it's time to call a meeting of everyone still loyal to me,” Oswald said. “Or, at least, those who claim to be.” He looked around at the fallen bodies. “And get a clean-up crew here as soon as possible.”

—

Victor didn't get a chance to add his new kills to his skin until they were back at the mansion. He was quiet for the journey back, mentally going over his kills. The two guards at the entrance, the boy on the second floor, three more on the third and then Romero, Gracie and Pearce. Nine marks in total.

While the others did what they had to do, Victor sought a quiet room to mark his skin in peace. He decided on the dining room, as the others made themselves comfortable in the living room. He'd just removed his shirt, draping it with his coat over a chair, when he heard the door open behind him.

“Oh!” Oswald gasped quietly. “I didn't mean to disturb you.”

“It’s fine,” Victor replied. “It isn't the first time you’ve seen me do this anyway.”

“There are more marks than last time.” Oswald came closer, and Victor could almost feel the curious gaze on his skin as a physical sensation.

“Killed a bunch more people since then,” he replied.

Oswald circled around him, taking in the tally marks. Almost unconsciously, he raised his hand, hovering just above a single tally mark on Victor’s chest. It was still scabbed over, right over his heart.

“This one —?”

“Quinn,” Victor replied. “And the ones tonight will go next to it.”

Oswald looked up, making eye contact at last. A blush stained his cheeks as he realised just how close he was standing.

“Do the honours?”

“What?”

Victor held up his box-cutter. “Mark me. I want you to.”

Oswald took the knife almost reverently. “Are you sure?”

“I asked, didn't I?” Victor replied. He took hold of Oswald’s wrist, guiding him to press the knife against the clear spot of skin on his chest.

Oswald increased the pressure until blood flowed, carefully pulling the blade down.

Victor held still. He didn't even gasp at the sharp pain, just watched Oswald with a smile on his face as he moved on to the next mark.

“How many?” Oswald asked.

“Nine, tonight. Keep going.”

Blood ran down Victor’s chest and stomach, startlingly red against his pale skin. Oswald made three tally marks beside the mark for Quinn. The fourth tally mark ran diagonally across the previous four, breaking through the scab of Quinn’s mark and making it bleed again. Then he repeated the pattern, just below that set, where Victor indicated.

“All done,” Oswald said, breathlessly. The flush had never left his cheeks.

“All done,” Victor echoed. He gripped Oswald, one hand around his wrist, the other on his hip, and spun them both around to press Oswald back against the table.

“Victor!” Oswald gasped, alarmed.

“You really are my favourite, you know,” Victor replied. He tilted Oswald’s face up for the perfect angle and kissed him.

Oswald froze, startled for a moment, and then relaxed a little. He gradually responded, uncertain, but not rejecting him. He let out a muffled noise when Victor lifted him up to sit on the table, but clung to him tighter instead of pushing away.

Victor almost fancied he could feel Oswald’s heart fluttering in his chest, fast and bird-like. He pressed closer, knowing he’d be in trouble later for getting blood on Oswald’s clothes but not caring at all.  

Oswald didn’t object until Victor’s hands went to his belt buckle.

“The others could walk in at any moment,” he said, drawing back.

Victor shrugged. He didn’t care, but clearly Oswald did, because he glared in response to Victor’s nonchalance.

“Not here!” he protested.

As if to prove his point, the door opened again.

“Pengy? We’re gonna- oh god, I’m sorry!” Ivy gasped, spinning around. “I didn’t know you two were-” She covered her face with her hands in embarrassment.

“Ivy, what did you want?” Oswald asked irritably.

“Um. We’re watching a movie now, if you two want to join us. Or not. It’s up to you.” She refused to turn around.

Oswald pushed Victor away and handed him his shirt. He slid off the table, straightening his clothes. He didn’t notice the dark red stain on his suit jacket, and Victor wasn’t about to point it out.

“What movie?”

Ivy shrugged. “Not sure yet. Victor — Fries, that is — wants to watch some old sci-fi thing, but Bridgit wants to watch a horror movie.”

“Was today not exciting enough for her?” Oswald asked, grumbling. Now that he was paying attention, he could hear the sounds of Freeze and Firefly bickering. “It’s like being surrounded by children,” he grumbled. He sighed and looked over at Victor. “Apparently it’s movie night. Do you want to stay?”

Victor shrugged, then nodded. “Why not?”

Later, after Oswald had put a stop to the arguing, and they’d eaten their fill of ice cream, Victor wondered if post-massacre movie nights should become a habit. Oswald was drifting off against his shoulder, and Ivy had already fallen asleep, curled between Bridgit and Fries to stop them from fighting. They still bickered quietly over the validity of the actual science in the movie (Fries criticising at every opportunity, Bridgit telling him to shut up and turn his brain off for one fucking second and just be entertained), but it just added to the contentment of the moment.

—  

The table seemed rather empty, now that five people were missing from their seats. Those who remained looked around uneasily until Oswald came in. They shifted nervously at the expression on his face. While a happy Penguin was much preferable to an unhappy Penguin, they were familiar enough with his moods to recognise that the triumphant grin was as equally dangerous as a scowl.

“Good evening, esteemed guests!” he greeted, with an almost manic energy. “It came to my attention recently that there have been some doubts on my ability to lead, after I became acquainted with my new friends here —” He gestured around the room, where Freeze, Firefly and Ivy stood against the walls. Each of them held boxes in their arms. Victor had one too, where he stood behind Oswald.

“I hope no one here has any doubts about them, or me,” Oswald continued.

Those sat at the table shook their heads and murmured that no, of course they didn't.  

“Good.” Oswald slammed his hands down hard on the table, making them all jump. “Because I'd hate to have to put down another coup so soon after this last one.” He signalled to the others around the room. “Just so you have no doubts about what happens to traitors in this city.”

Freeze, Firefly, Ivy and Victor tipped their boxes out onto the table. The severed heads thumped against the wood and rolled.

“Oh!” His remaining capos gasped in shock, but composed themselves again quickly enough.

“Are we all understood?” Oswald asked. He looked at them all in turn, taking in those who showed approval and those who looked more nauseous at the decapitated heads resting in front of them.

A murmur of assent went around the room.

“Excellent.” Oswald straightened up, beaming. “Now that that’s all cleared up, you're dismissed.”

He watched them all file out, followed by Freeze, Firefly and Ivy. Ivy closed the door behind her, leaving Oswald and Victor alone.

“From now on, no one does anything in this city without my authorisation,” Oswald said. “I’m moving forward with my licensing plan. I’ll need you to enforce it whenever it becomes necessary.”

“Of course, boss.” Victor came up behind him, sliding his arms around Oswald’s waist. “But I was hoping we might take this opportunity to do something besides talk business.”

Oswald inhaled sharply as Victor’s questing hands found his belt buckle and unfastened it swiftly. “Victor!”

“I like watching you in charge,” Victor said. He nipped Oswald’s ear with his teeth gently.

Oswald hissed. “You’re determined to do this here? Now?” He gestured to the severed heads adorning the table still. “I need to get this place cleaned up.”

“You’re not actually stopping me,” Victor pointed out. He unbuttoned Oswald’s trousers and slid one hand under the waistline.

Oswald hissed, gripping Victor’s wrist tightly. “Not here. Upstairs.”

Victor smirked and removed his hand, for now. “You’re the boss.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you've enjoyed reading this just as much as I enjoyed writing it!


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